


Porcelain

by ShayLaLaLooHoo



Category: Nußknacker und Mausekönig | Nutcracker and the Mouse King - E. T. A. Hoffmann, The Nutcracker Prince (1990)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Awkward Romance, Character Death, Christmas, Dolls, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Love, Magic, Nutcracker, OC, Role Reversal, Romance, doll!AU, kids in love, nutcracker prince, preface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:25:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayLaLaLooHoo/pseuds/ShayLaLaLooHoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hans, apprentice to his uncle Drosselmeier, and Clara, a young dancer under a heartless curse, find their destinies entwined when the Mouse Queen returns with her only son. However, the curse has changed not only Clara's body, but her heart, and the Mouse Prince has a much different plan than his mother. (Old story that could be better but will not be changed. Role Swap AU. Mentions of an adult being violent to a child, although the child is a doll. Said child sustains injuries, which are later healed. Creepy antagonist.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> The Mouseking in the original movie did not fit the one that I would need for this tale, so I reinvented mine. Orpheus, unlike his movie counterpart, relies more on magic than brawn and has a good relationship with the Mousequeen; he can be read as an entirely different Mouseking, or an AU version of the same one.  
> For those will triggers, this story includes the following: emotional and physical mentions of abuse, a traumatic head injury, and a villain who was apparently capable of giving my followers on deviantart nightmares. However, these actions are against dolls, who do not feel their injuries, and are not graphically described.

Clara ran.

The branches of leafless trees and the sharp needles of pines scratched at her skin. She dared not glance behind. She neglected the path and took the least obvious route, in hopes that could sidetrack her pursuers. The puffed teal sleeves of her party dress were now tattered, and the bottom cuff of the left had a bit of blood from a particularly brutal evergreen. Still, she barely noticed, although the breeze felt like knives against any wounds she bore.

She broke through the woods and propelled off the fence, bent on reaching the village. Clara was cold, but it was more from fear than the Christmastime weather.

Darting between and behind houses, Clara ran so quickly she pushed off of the walls to turn sharply, instead of running a smooth and graceful path. Her legs, strong from years of dancing, were beginning to tire, but she dared not catch her breath.

She slipped on the ice and fell on the ground. A few passerby stared strangely, but she did not care. Her reddening face had been scraped, and although they stung, she crawled to a snow bank and stood up. She would not stop now, no matter how draining the past few minutes.

Clara ran again, pushing off two more corners and threw herself against a shopkeeper's door, pounding with icy fists.

"Uncle Drosselmeier! Please hurry!" She cried out again, feeling her sweat freezing against her forehead.

"Who could that be?" Elias Christian Drosselmeier said, pausing with the wrapping of a gift.

"Uncle Drosselmeier! It's me, Clara! Open the door!" The unforeseen visitor continued, tears reaching into her throat and blocking her speech.

Drosselmeier came to the door and opened it, and Clara narrowly avoided hitting him where a door had once been.

"Yes, Clara, I realize I am late, but you need not panic." He chuckled, but Clara looked up, panic-stricken. She ran in, slammed the door, and locked it. With a sob, she fell back against the door, shaking.

"Clara, what—?"

"Uncle Drosselmeier, we're in trouble. Thank heavens you are late!"

"Clara, what is wrong?"

She swallowed back her tears, legs giving out beneath her as she curled up against the door.

"Mama and Papa...Fritz, Louise, they're all gone!"

"They could not have—?"

"Died? No, godfather, it is much worse than that! Their souls have been locked away."

"How is that possible?"

"Uncle Drosselmeier, do you believe in magic?" Clara asked, looking up slowly from her fetal position.

He looked at her in surprise, but said nothing.

"You will only believe this story," Clara ennunciated, "If you have the eyes to see it."

"Then tell me, my dear." He reached out his hand and helped her up. She cried onto his coat as her rubbed her cold arms in an attempt to warm them.

"Drosselmeier, mice have come and attacked our party. But they are not like ordinary mice, they can speak, and they walk on two legs. And...they even have a government..."

"And?" Drosselmeier urged his goddaughter to continue. She struggled not to lose her breath.

"They have a queen, and she has a son. But the strange thing about these mice..."

"Is?" Drosselmeier said, trying to picture these dreaded rodents.

Clara shivered in his arms. "They have magical powers!"

"What can they do?"

Clara looked him straight in his eyes, her gaze seeming to piercing him through his eye-patch.

"Oh, Uncle Drosselmeier," She cried out. "They can turn people into dolls! I'm the only one left!"

 


	2. The Music Box

 

"Uncle Drosselmeier, who is this?"

Hans gently lifted a tiny porcelain figure from the smallest wooden box and Elias Christian Drosselmeier looked up from under the shop counter.

"Oh, it appears as though you've found my clever little friend."

Annually, the Drosselmeiers put up a Christmas display in their humble clockshop window. It was something different each year, and at the beginning of December, the elder Drosselmeier had brought down a few wooden, locked boxes. He did not reveal what they contained until the twenty-third, as the two men began to set up the display.

"What is her name?"

"Clara."

Hans twirled the doll slowly between his fingers, examining the gently smiling dancer.

"Every year, you say the window will tell a story. What is her story?"

"It is a long and sorrowful tale, but I will show you the beginning."

Hans set the pirouetting dancer on the counter and watched as his uncle opened the largest box, taking out the bottom of the centerpiece.

"Once upon a time, perhaps a century ago, or less..." Drosselmeier placed the base down in the window, amidst the rest of the clockwork village, "There were the Stahlbaums. Carl, the father was the town's doctor, well known for his jovial and friendly attitude. Their mother Ingrid was their guardian, supporting and dedicated to her children. The eldest daughter Louise was cheerful and beautiful, and their son Fritz had the heart and will of a soldier. Clara, the middle child, was a graceful dancer, a clever and resourceful girl, and so pure-hearted, she loved and was beloved by all she met.”

Drosselmeier silenced for a moment upon mentioning Clara, seeming somewhere else entirely until he snapped back to attention.

"The family was close and loved each other dearly, and despite the arguments that could arise between the children, Clara was always able to make peace. What the family was most well-known for, however, was their yearly Christmas Party."

He rooted through the box and found three couples, holding onto each other like they were dancing. They were each dressed in different elegant gowns and suits; blue and purple, cream and pink with teal, emerald green or gold, a bright and colorful spectacle of swirling gowns and dashing suits. The couples were frozen, mid-dance, around the edges of the display. Next came a group of musicians; clad in blue and powdered wigs, bearing a harp, a viola, a cello, and a flute. Drosselmeier placed them in the center, and there was an audible click as each piece was locked into place.

They did not move. Drosselmeier continued talking to his nephew, closing that box and opening the next largest.

"This particular year, they were dancing when the son, Fritz, discovered something somewhat... unexpected."

He placed a glass case over the stand, leaving the dancers vulnerable and shielding the musicians. On this layer appeared to be a table set with many sweets and pastries, and even a glass punch bowl. The detail in every pastry was so realistic, Hans thought that if he were smaller, he could jump right in and devour anything in sight.

"Mice were on the table, eating the food. Fritz alerted his family, and Clara's kitten, Pavlova, had a wonderful time chasing the mice."

Hans was able to find the small kitten piece in the box and handed it to his uncle, who placed it. The kitten stayed still with a ball of yarn in her paws, every strand of porcelain fur a perfect gray.

Drosselmeier enclosed this scene with another glass level, but three empty towers jutted from the sides, connected at the top with a round pedestal.

"This family was in danger, and they had not known, for the Queen of Mice and her son were watching them. Most of the time, they stole into the kitchen and took the crumbs that had fallen to the floor, perfectly able to hide away at will. But this time, Ingrid Stahlbaum was very careful with the preparation of the refreshments, and did not let a single scrap out of sight. This made the Mousequeen most unhappy, so she raided the party.

"Mrs. Stahlbaum begged them to stop, and offered to make them their own feast, but it was too late. The Mousequeen, rash in her judgment, cursed the Stahlbaum elders."

Drosselmeier took up from the box two figures, standing at each other's side. The woman, Mrs. Stahlbaum, was in an elegant blue gown, and her husband, Dr. Stahlbaum, wore a red suit.

"They would only exist further to feed her each night."

Hans stared at the figures once again, noticing the gentle hand the doctor kept on his wife's shoulder. Mrs. Stahlbaum held a platter of tarts in her hands. The somewhat worried expressions the couple bore unnerved Hans as he set them atop one of the pedestals.

"Their brave son ran forward to help them, but with a wave of the Queen's hand, she turned him into a tin soldier. He would defend her, and only her, each night."

Hans found a very young boy with shaggy, dark blonde hair in a soldier's cap and a crimson uniform. Fritz was placed beside his parents, and his short stature made Hans wonder just how old the boy was.

"Louise tried to hide her sister, but," He placed a girl in a beautiful gown on the next pedestal, "She was cursed also. She, having a love of dressing up, was to create new gowns, robes, and dresses for the Mousequeen."

"A new one for each night?" Hans guessed, staring at the well-dressed toy. She looked a little like a princess, holding aloft her pink skirt with her hair pinned close to her head.

"Exactly."

"And Clara?"

"Clara managed to escape."

Hans did not reply, staring at the unfinished display. The tallest tower, at the very center, was empty.

"She did not run because of cowardice, Hans,” Drosselmeyer explained, placing a hand on his young nephew's shoulder. “She was a strong-minded and resourceful girl, but before all else, she was kind.”

Drosselmeier fell silent, glancing at the lone figure on the counter where Hans had left her.

"She tried appealing to the Mouse Queen's son before all else. The Mouse Prince seemed to listen at first, even introducing himself and his mother as Orpheus and Madam Francis Mouserinks, but made no move to stop the queen from beginning a curse for Clara. The girl was able to escape before the curse was finished, and ran to the village for help.”

Hans stared at the empty boxes, the scraps of fabric with which the dolls had been been wrapped to avoid breakage, finally resting his sights on Clara.

"The ending of this story is the worst of it all" Drosselmeier said, closing his visible eye and shaking his head.

"Clara, thanks to her sister, was able to escape home to seek help and refuge. She came to her godfather, who was not able to make it to the party, and explained the situation. Before he was able to act, The Mousequeen and Prince Orpheus appeared. Like his mother, the Mouseprince had inherited the ability to cast spells. Unlike his mother, who preferred spells that changed physical form, Orpheus preferred to curse emotions. With a single movement, he stole Clara's ability to love."

Hans blinked blankly, gingerly picking up the porcelain dancer and gazing at her face.

"To make matters worse," Drosselmeier continued, "The Mousequeen cursed Clara again. Every night, Clara was to entertain her by dancing and singing. With her magic, the Mousequeen hid the Stahlbaum's estate and stole Clara back. It took many, many years until Clara's godfather found the home, took the Stahlbaum dolls, and hid them away from the Mousequeen. I believe that the Mousequeen is still searching for them to this day."

"Uncle Drosselmeier, you speak as though this truly happened," Hans said uneasily.

Drosselmeier smiled sadly. "Their stories must be told before they are forgotten. Hans, it truly happened if you have eyes to see it."

Hans turned and placed the ballerina on the very top pedestal. With a few flicks of his wrist, Drosselmeier turned the Clara doll a few times, and she began to turn, her legs outstretched behind her in a perfect arabesque, the skirt of her teal gown draped against her knee.

The Waltz of the Flowers started in a chiming tune. Fritz raised a toy sword monotonously to the beat of Louise twirling her gown around her. The parents swayed side to side, and below them, the waltzers waltzed, the musicians played, and Pavlova chased her yarn around the room in a perfect circle. Every doll but Clara kept their eyes open, although she was the only one smiling. It was almost vacant, neither peaceful nor sincere.

Despite the beautiful display the lit up the window, Hans continued staring at Clara, absentmindedly humming along to the tune of the music box.

Drosselmeier left the room, glancing at the clocks around them, then rested his sights on the tallest one, with the Drosselmeier name etched onto the glass face. The owl on top hooted ten, and Elias retired, leaving Hans to continue gazing at the dancer on top as the song played again. As the boy left the room, the words of his uncle's story turning over in his head.

The moment he was out of earshot, there was a nibbling sound from the corner of the room. Moments later, a throaty cackle rang out, shattering the peaceful atmosphere.

 

 


	3. The Mousequeen's Party

The Mousequeen emerged, slate gray with heavily lidded, lazy eyes. After her came her imposing son; tall for a mouse and slightly wider, dusty brown, his unnaturally pink eyes gleaming.

They approached the shop window, their long, straight tails sweeping behind them. Their narrow frames cast thin shadows across the floor as they jumped up into the window. Once their claws touched solid ground, the Stahlbaum dolls shivered to life.

Their gazes darted around the room, not quite seeing past the mice. Clara lowered her leg into a perfect fourth position and opened her eyes. Her deep blue eyes were the color of a late afternoon sky, although their usual prettiness was lost in the unnervingly lifeless glint in them. She stayed perfectly still at the highest point of the display as her family shuddered, and Louise even took a panicked step back.

"Good evening, your highness," they murmured. Clara's head tilted onto her shoulders nonchalantly, unblinking.

"Hello, my darlings," Mouserinks smirked. Her son sneered, showing off every gleaming tooth to the kitten that hid in the glass room. Pavlova hissed, ducking under the tabelcloth.

The Stahlbaums muttered their dishonest thanks for allowing them existence.

"You have not learned these past few years, have you?" She said boredly, her green-lidded red eyes scanning the family.

"Fritz, at attention!" She crowed. He straightened, furrowing his brow. She then turned to Louise to continue. "Now, dearest, what have we tonight?"

Louise blinked frightfully, and her voice was tight and shaky. "There is a purple, velveteen gown, I believe, will bring out the red in your eyes, if paired with green gloves or shoes."

"Then go and fetch me the outfit and I shall get changed!" The Queen snapped. "Good Gracious, what am I to do with you?"

Louise nodded and staggered away into the room with Pavlova, although the kitten was still hidden. There was no time yet to try and coax the kitten out of hiding as the girl dashed around, sorting through the dresses and skirts that would magically pile up when Madam Mouserinks would appear.

Just as the Mousequeen had climbed upon the highest pedestal, Louise appeared with the gown and accessories, pulling a chair with her. She appeared exhausted, but said nothing as she caught sight of her sister. Clara hadn't moved at the approach of either person.

In a few moments, Madam Mouserinks was dressed and Louise was putting assorted powders on her face.

"Perhaps tonight we should try purple on your eyes."

"Green is fine."

Louise sighed, but picked up her spirits by thinking of a sienna gown that would be gorgeous with a creamy white eyeshadow, or, perhaps, if there was none of that, rat poison could make a wonderful substitute.

"Ingrid! Carly!" The queen called angrily, and Louise narrowly avoided smearing her makeup.

"Yes?"

"Apple strudel. Now."

Carl brought it forward to her. She took one bite and immediately spit it at their feet.

"That's old!" She griped, then focused her sights just beyond the others.

Clara hadn't moved until she was the center of the Mousequeen's attentions. She curtsied listlessly, keeping her face low until she was spoken to.

"Dollface..." The Mousequeen crooned. "Perhaps a song and dance tonight."

"Which would please your majesty?" Clara asked in an unchangingvoice.

"Perhaps that one that's like, 'If you could see my cow?'"

"'Save this Dance?" She asked, unblinking.

"Yeah, yeah, that one."

Clara stepped into position and stretched out her arms. She breathed in and began to sing.

_"If you could hear me now..._

_"If I could only get through..."_

"And that, my dear boy, is how you do not fail your ruler," The Mousequeen snickered to her son.

"Agreed," Her son said, straightening and watching Clara dance intently.

 

Fritz paced on his pedestal, his uniform, now shredded once he'd been awakened, fluttering around him.

He glanced down at his sleeve and relived the moment the Mousequeen had stated that he was out of practice fighting, and had told Orpheus to fight him.

Fritz closed his eyes, the memory of that skirmish etched into his mind. The feel of the stell blade clashing against his tin skin gave him no pain, but the sparks that flew at his face with each hit singed his skin. He gritted his teeth and looked at Mouserinks.

She looked smug, watching Clara dance. Orpheus stood by his mother, arms behind his back, gaze never wavering from Clara's moving form.

He looked away. The Mousequeen had ordered him to protect her. She was in no real danger while he was on duty. The only people after her were his friends and family, and they would never hurt him to get to her.

_"Share all my secrets with you...."_

 

Louise was looking through her fabrics, trying to see if she could find anything even slightly sienna. Whatever Louise needed was there, courtesy of Madam F., but never what she wanted.

Pavlova ran about her, chasing her yarn and having a good time. Even though the kitten looked happy, Louise knew that the kitten was missing someone. Pavlova batted the yawn around softly, mewing softly along with Clara's song.

The words of the melody tugged at Louise's heartstrings, leading her mind into dark thoughts. Time must have passed—a lot of time, judging off of the dust that had gathered on the shoulders of her pink gown. It seemed to be many years, and Louise wondered about her own beloved Erik. Had he forgotten her? Was he now married? Could enough time have passed that he had passed away?

Louise stopped and closed her eyes, clutching whatever bundle of fabric she held against her chest. She swayed, wishing that dolls were able to cry.

Clara's song continued, and Louise shook her head.

"Collect yourself, Louise, it could be much worse," the eldest girl scolded, rubbing the navy fabric between her fingers as she glared up above. "At least you are a person, not a shadow."

Pavlova shrieked and Louise jolted around. The kitten had come face to face with a spider. Had they been their normal size, it would have barely been noticeable; now it was a leviathon, at least the size of Pavlova herself.

Louise sighed, no longer phased by the giant insects. "Go on, Pavlova, attack."

The brave, absent-minded kitten instead chased them out into Fritz's path. Louise darted to the wall, watching on in fear as Fritz drew his sword. The spider seemed to rear up, reaching the young boy's shoulder. Fritz swung his toy sword, clipping its fangs, and the spider hastily departed into the shadows. Judging by the fact that Clara's song was uninterrupted by any fits, the Mousequeen had not seen the spider.

Louise was relieved, to say the least. The last time a bug had escaped Fritz, he'd been forced to go up against Orpheus.

Shoving the memory aside, Louise watched Fritz curiously, his toes hanging off his pedestal as he peered into the darkness. He turned back around, a broad and elfish grin on his features. Louise shrugged at him, and he impatiently tapped his ear and pointed out.

Louise grabbed her scissors, sewing kit, and the bundle of fabric before heading out eagerly. She was not allowed to speak to Fritz while the Mousequeen was there, but she thought she knew what Fritz had meant. Louise was silent, blocking out Clara's singing as she listened intently to the background of noises.

The ticking of several clocks could be heard, each in perfect time. There was only one person Louise knew of who could keep clocks tuned to the precise second.

"Drosselmeier's workshop?" Louise breathed, staring out into the darkness. As she sat onto her pedestal, she kept her eyes locked in the distance, watching as a faint glint on an amber clock face became clearer.

They were going to be saved. Somehow, someway, they were going to be saved.

_"Someone so brave, who's never afraid...."_

 

Orpheus watched Clara dance. She was graceful, she was beautiful. Her voice was crisp and clear.

Madam F. Mouserinks watched her also. How entertaining! Her own personal puppet. It was all thanks to Orpheus that Clara was no longer rebellious and snarly. She would have to thank him at some point...as soon as the proper reward came to mind.

Fritz heard Clara sing and could see her every so often when he turned. Her voice used to be so much more beautiful when it had emotion.

Her parents listened, silently crying. The words were charming and pure, their daughter in the form of a song, but no meaning really came through when sung in that heartless tone.

Louise had hope. Clara and Fritz had indeed been childish before, but she'd rather have them back than be alone the rest of her days. And Drosselmeier would surely find a solution.

The upstairs floorboards creaked. Hans had heard someone singing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Madam Mouserinks comes from the original fairy tale.


	4. The Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hans takes the first steps to breaking the curse, a few things have to be broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for violence.

"Hans? Hans!..."

Hans rubbed his eyes. "Uncle Drosselmeier?"

He was sore from the awkward angle that he had fallen asleep in, on top of a work stool with his head against the counter. His hand was gently curled around a porcelain figure, and it took a moment to remember what it was.

"Why did you come downstairs?" Drosselmeier asked; his tone was not demanding or questioning. Hans understood that his uncle knew by his musing voice.

"...I thought I heard Clara singing," Hans said seriously as he stood and stretched; he flinched as his back popped. He opened his hand and looked down at the figurine that served as the key and the heart of the display. “Nothing was moving when I came down, but I took her off anyway.”

"So, you not only have eyes to see it, you have ears to hear it." Elias chuckled and placed Clara back on the stand. He caught Hans' worried glance. "She is safe during the day. You should get dressed before customers come. There won't be too many so close to Christmas, but I doubt that you'd want them to see you dressed for bed."

Hans looked down at his clothes and decided that his uncle was correct.

 

Hans watched as Mrs. Miller left, a new pocket watch for her husband in a bag. He turned to Uncle Drosselmeier and spoke.

"How can we help Clara and her family?"

"Are you going to try to break the curse?"

Hans nodded enthusiastically and his uncle silently sighed.

"It will be very difficult. It will take self-control, discipline, and bravery."

Hans suddenly felt self-conscious. He wasn't sure if he had any of those traits.

"I'll try."

Drosselmeier nodded. "The Mousequeen must be defeated."

"I'll have to kill her?" Hans asked. The idea made him frightened.

"No. She can be defeated in multiple ways. If Clara defies her, if she surrenders, anything like that, she will be defeated."

Hans pondered this. If Clara disobeys, they'd win. But she will still be unable to love. The Mousequeen may never surrender, and Clara will still be her slave.

"It sounds as if breaking the curse will be as probable as Clara being able to fall in love within one night," Hans said sadly.

"Precisely. Now Hans, here is what you have to do...."

 

Hans waited downstairs, pressed against the wall of the back room. His fingers absently rubbed a sheathed sword at his side. Waiting was proving to be fraying his nerves, and the ticking of clocks, usually a soothing sound to him, made him anxious.

He was startled at first when he heard the throaty laugh.

"Figures. The clock-maker's stupid apprentice didn't make it tonight," The Mousequeen said mockingly.

"Pity," Orpheus said.

Hans next heard a twinkling sound, like falling glitter. People shuffled. He dared to glance around the corner, and just barely made out the moving of the dolls. He inhaled sharply and crouched to the ground. The family sword slid from its sheath, and the sheen of the sword perfectly reflected the scene playing out. Louise offered out a navy gown, edged with golden thread, as the Mousequeen spat out a full bite of raspberry tart. Orpheus kept his sights possessively on the unmoving dancer.

The only doll not doing anything was Fritz, who sat broodily at the edge of his pedestal, turning over the toy sword in his hand. The tin soldier's eyes were narrowed, and Hans felt uneasy at the sight.

"Fritz!" The Mousequeen screeched.

The child stood, head held high, and marched up to the top of the pedestal. Although small and seemingly insignificant, the Mousequeen's anger bubbled up within her.

"Have you been doing anything?"

Hans could see the tin jaw lock into place, the painted circles on the cheeks darkening to a crimson that matched his coat.

"No."

"No...?" The Mousequeen repeated, growling.

“That's what I said!” Fritz snapped back, planting his fists to his hips. “I refuse to do this anymore!”

The Mousequeen spit out the drink that the Stahlbaum elders brought her.

"Hmm...any particular reason why?" She shoved the goblet back into the hands of Dr. Stahlbaum and rose from her chair, looking to her son from the corner of her eye.

Fritz glared at the Queen as his family looked on in amazement. “You're cruel, and vain. You've hurt everyone in my family, and the only reason you're having me protect you is because you don't want them to risk hurting me!”

Madam F. Mouserinks was shaken as the weight of the young boy's words sunk under everyone's skin.

"I'm not going to stand in their way any more!" Fritz screamed, turning on his heels and reaching a hand out. "Clara!”

"Son!" The Mousequeen squealed before she could risk losing her favorite.

Orpheus lunged forward, teeth bared, and grabbed Fritz's arm, moments before his fingers could graze her sleeve.

She shook. "Teach Fritz a lesson. And make sure he understands it."

Hans breathing deepened as he pulled his sword away. Still, the proceeding slap was clear as a bell, and he winced as he heard Ingrid scream her son's name.

Fritz tumbled off each pedestal, hitting his head as he rolled to the edge of the window ledge. He felt no physical pain, being made of metal instead of porcelain, but he still felt significantly weaker than before.

"Now then..." Orpheus said, descending from the platform, his sword's sheath clanking against each level. "How will you speak to my mother?"

Fritz said nothing, gritting his teeth and struggling to push himself up.

He turned in time to see a flying paw, claws spread.

The boy skidded over the edge. Hans tightened his grasp on the sword's handle, eyes tightly closed. Drosselmeier said that he had to wait until midnight to fight. He could not interfere....

"Will you honor the Mousequeen?"

Fritz just groaned.

_Slap._

"She owns your life! She's the reason you're alive!"

Fritz babbled something incoherently, and Hans wished that the clock would move faster.

"Stop stuttering, fool!"

_Smack!_

Hans stared at the clock, watching the last five seconds tick down.

“Fritz!” Louise shrieked, and one last slap was heard.

The soldier didn't move.

Clocks began chiming all around him, bells and chimes and the hooting of the owl. Hans took his hat from his head and tossed it along the floor. The Mousequeen watched the shadow pass in the shadows.

"My son, darling, will you see what that was? It seems that my usual guard is out of commission."

"Absolutely," Orpheus replied, rubbing his wrist to ease the stress of the beating. Hans kept his grip on the sword tight.

Hans first saw the shadow pass over the doorframe, followed by the mouse himself. Hans stood to full height and tried to appear intimidating.

"Leave Clara and her family alone."

Orpheus stared up at the boy, almost boredly, and scoffed. He looked over his shoulder to Clara and the Mousequeen, then back at Hans.

"What could you do?" The mouse languidly replied.

"I'll give you a five second head start," Hans said, voice shaking slightly, "To draw your sword and fight."

"A fight?" Orpheus smirked. "A giant against a fly would not usually be a fair fight."

Hans breathed in deeply, steadying his nerves. Even if it was just a rat, it had intentionally injured a child.

"A monster versus a man is not quite equal, either," Hans replied.

"Then let's even it out," Orpheus said. He darted into the shadows.

Hans glanced around, trying to find the rodent.

Then he felt a sharp, stabbing pain on his Achilles tendon.

Orpheus had bitten him. Hans felt dizzy and closed his eyes, sagging against the wall.

It felt like everything inside of him was compacting, and he wondered feverishly if his skin was really enough to hold him together. When the pain subsided, he finally opened his eyes.

Orpheus towered above him.

Hans had shrunk.

"This is the fairest the fight will be," Orpheus corrected.

Hans swallowed and raised his sword, terrified and trembling.

 

Clara screamed and staggered. The Mousequeen caught her by her wrist to stop her from falling.

"Dollface, my dear little puppet, are you all right?"

Shaking her head, Clara tried to throw off a sudden rush of emotions. She wanted to respond and say she wasn't, but she held back.

"I'm fine," she said as evenly as possible.

The last she remembered was running to Uncle Drosselmeier's, he had let her in, there was a chewing sound and a few magic words.

Then she recalled nothingness. Days and hours where nothing was important enough to remember and care about. Standing blankly, singing, dancing...

She turned from the Mousequeen, worry on her face.

Someone had set their mind on breaking her curses. That enough had woken her from her heartless trance.

But she was still a doll.

Her eyes scanned the room, finally caring enough to notice that she was in Drosselmeier's workshop. She would have recognized it immediately, had she wanted to.

As her eyes searched the room, they fell upon a fallen form on the ground. She would have recognized the unkempt hair anywhere, and she almost cried out in fear.

"What's that sound?" Louise said from below. Clara glanced at her and then towards the source of the noise.

Clara had never cared to notice the sounds of battle when Fritz had fought, but there was no doubt that it was the sound of clashing swords. Her heart sailed in her chest, and she felt tempted to begin singing and dancing in honor of whoever was trying to break her spell.

"Clara, what's happening to you?" The Mousequeen whispered, approaching Clara from behind. The girl realized that she'd flexed her fingers with excitement.

As Clara turned on her heel, the Queen's face fell onc she noticed Clara's expression—was that a smile? Was that _hatred_ in her eyes?

"The curse Orpheus placed on me is failing, because someone cares about me that hadn't before. Even now, as they both fight, Orpheus's curse is breaking," Clara savored the words. "And just like his, your curse will fail also; it will shatter, into a million, tiny pieces."

Mouserinks screamed out an unearthly howl that made Clara's ears ring. She ran to the girl, holding out her claws as if to strangle her. Clara could hear her parents gasping as Louise shouted with glee.

Clara caught one of the Mousequeen's wrists and dodged the other.


	5. The Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battles between mice, dolls, and apprentice climax, leaving behind five of the fighters to journey onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter delves in Hans's past and the effects of magic, which is never explained that much in the movie. A few headcanons that don't conflict with the movie.

Hans lifted the sword to block Orpheus's attack. The sudden pressure made him shake, but Hans fell back and rolled out of the light.

In the darkness, he could hardly see. He closed his eyes, listening. Orpheus slid up behind him; slowly, steadily, surely.

Meanwhile, Clara was grappling with the Mousequeen. The mouse was gritting her sharp teeth; Clara, being a doll, was not running out of stamina, but was finding it difficult to control her already fragile and underused emotions.

With a shriek, The Mousequeen broke free. Clara's porcelain fingers cracked and she screamed at the sight.

Hans stumbled out of the shadows and fell onto one knee. He was clutching his bleeding right shoulder.

"The darkness does not help you in this circumstance, friend."

Hans moved his hand from his shoulder and set it on the ground to balance himself.

"Look at you—weak. A weak, little, lonely orphan."

Hans ignored him, focusing on the movement of his shadow.

"How did you become so alone, with no aquaintences but an uncle?"

Hans knew where this story was going, and he wondered how long the Mousequeen and her son had been watching him, looking for the dolls. Still, he did not want the story manipulated.

"We had just moved here," Hans interrupted, "So I could start my apprenticeship with Uncle Drosselmeier. I was seven. One night, I got lost in the snow, so my parents came to find me. They got sick, and they died."

Hans was surprised with the ease he had told the story.

"And your father," Orpheus said as he circled Hans, "Was also a magician. Like your uncle."

" _Dross_ means _excess_. We were given that name since we had an excess of talent."

"You have no powers, Hans. Only magic runs through your veins, but nothing else!"

"I can break spells" Hans said, “That is all that matters.”

He looked up, glaring at the mouse triumphantly. Orpheus froze in front of Hans and glanced down.

"You've blood on your hands."

Hans lifted his arm from the ground and looked down. Indeed, a small handprint from the few drops of blood on his fingers had stained the floor red.

"It's from the wound you gave me."

Orpheus screeched in a way only animals could manage and Hans's head darted up, frightened.

Hans raised the sword automatically as Orpheus came in for the kill.

 

Clara fell backwards when the Mousequeen tripped her with her tail. The other dolls watched the fight as Pavlova slipped away to Fritz.

Clara had cracks in her palms. She felt delirious, like she wanted to cackle, scream, and sob at the same time.

Then someone in the other room screamed. Clara looked up from the place where she had fallen and Madam F. Mouserinks froze. Everyone glanced behind.

 

Hans was kneeling on the floor, shaking. He had barely raised the sword in time, but Orpheus had accidentally stabbed himself by leaping towards Hans and falling onto the weapon, instead. The sword protruded from the right side of his chest.

Hans stood and gingerly pulled the blade from the body, as if Orpheus would return to life without the sword in his body. Nothing moved. He turned from the mouse and walked into the light of the shop room.

The dolls saw him and Clara stood. And as bloody as his sword, and as shaken as he was, they cheered. Clara smiled enthusiastically when she saw him.

He was too busy wondering how Clara was able to emote again to notice the Mousequeen's anger.

She jumped over the heads of the dolls, shrieking with fury, teeth bared. She was speaking, but her words were eerily tripled.

“ _The spell you broke, on your head falls!_ ” She bellowed, yellow teeth flashing in the light, _“You shall—_ ack!”

Clara had grabbed the Queen by her tail, and Madam Mouserinks hovered over the edge of the pedestal, twitching with pain.

The Mousequeen stared beseechingly up at the girl. “Please don't.”

Clara grinned and shook her head before releasing the Queen's now crooked tail. Madam Mouserinks plummeted down, wailing, and was only just able to catch the edge of the window ledge before she fell back onto her tail.

Hans stared up at Clara, and she didn't break the gaze.

"I've been wanting to do that for years."

Hans nodded slowly, although he did not quite understand. For one who had been so blank minutes before, she was awfully feisty.

The Mousequeen rolled over to face Hans, sights locked on the blood on the blade. Hans thought her lip trembled before she turned and ran away on all fours. The three eldest Stahlbaums cheered as Clara made her way down each pedestal.

Clara knelt down, leaning over the windowsill. “What is your name?”

Hans suddenly felt flustered. "Hans. Hans Drosselmeier."

"Drosselmeier?" Clara smiled and cocked her head. "Would you happen to be related at all to Elias Christian Drosselmeier, the clockmaker?"

"I'm his nephew."

"I'm his goddaughter." Clara giggled, and held her skirt out, like a curtsy. "Please to make your acquaintance, Sir Hans Drosselmeier!"

Hans reached up to take her hand and bowed. "Likewise, Mistress Clara."

He gave her a light kiss on the back of hand and she laughed. But with a glance at her hand, she gasped.

"What is it?" Hans asked, slightly concerned.

"There were...when I was fighting the Mousequeen, there were cracks on my hands...but they're gone, somehow...."

Someone was walking heavily and tiredly down the stairs.

"Hans! Where are...you."

Drosselmeier had entered the room and spotted his shrunken apprentice.

"Oh..."

"Uncle Drosselmeier!" Clara called, jumping to her feet. Drosselmeier stared, amazed at the smile she bore. He knelt in front of the window, and she jumping into his palm so he could set her on the ground.

“Orpheus's spell has been broken!” She declared, moving to Hans's side. “Now we only need to break the curse which turned us into dolls!"

"Did the Mousequeen surrender?" Drosselmeier asked, confused. Hans realized that she'd run off, but she said nothing.

A gentle mewing at his feet brought Hans back, focusing on Pavlova as she batted her paws at Clara's skirt.

“What's wrong?” The girl asked, but her giddy expression wilted once Pavlova darted towards the shadowed doorway. “I almost forgot!”

Clara dashed towards her fallen brother, resting a hand on his arm.

“Fritz is broken,” Hans croaked. He'd been so wrapped up in thought after defeating Orpheus, that he'd forgotten.

"Broken?" Drosselmeier said in disbelief. He rushed over and lifted up the tin soldier, turning the unmoving figurine in his hands.

“His head's been dented,” Drosselmeier said in disappointment, rubbing the tips of his fingers together over the boy's head. Hans watched in curiosity; he'd never seen his uncle preform magic in front of him before, especially with society's view of the gift. “How did this happen?”

Clara fell silent, still kneeling. She looked almost guilty. Hans carefully walked up behind her.

“Orpheus,” he said simply, staring down at his sword. The name still carried an air of menace to him.

Fritz's eyes sprang open and a stream of gibberish poured out of his mouth. Clara's head darted up and Hans heard the other Stahlbaums sigh with relief.

“He's still broken, but at least he's awake,” Drosselmeier offered Fritz down to his nephew as Clara sprang to her feet. Fritz was just small enough that Hans could hold him comforting, but the boy's excited squirming made him hard to handle. “You two will have to take him to the Estate.”

Fritz silenced his jabbering and his eyes wandered, independent of the other. Hans was almost too distracted to listen when Clara spoke.

"The Estate?” she whispered.

"The Estate was— _is_ the Stahlbaum's Manor. When the curses were placed, she also put a spell over the house. Taking him home will cure him," Drosselmeier told them as Fritz tugged at Hans's long hair.

"No one knew what had happened to me once I ran off...." Clara realized.

"That's part of the reason why I want you to go back. Hans will escort you so he will be able to return to his former size."

The apprentice wondered if there was an alternate reason that was not mentioned. He glanced over and noticed Clara smiling.

"Through the clock you three go, if you all are willing."

"The clock?" Hans asked.

"Bwahwab," Fritz responded.

The trio looked up at the clock, the owl looming ominously on the top.

"It's the same clock as the one we have at home," Clara noted. Hans watched the pendulum and hoped no one would get hurt. Louise, Carl, and Ingrid returned to their places on the display.

Hans carefully sat Fritz against the clock so he could begin to push blocks of wood in order to make stairs. Clara was almost going to join in when she stopped in her tracks.

"What is this?" She asked, pacing around to the other corner. Hans blushed and felt lucky that Clara could not see his face.

"It's just a hobby."

"You're a woodcarver?" Clara asked, standing the wood onto two feet. The statuette was of soldier—it did not look realistic at all, and rather grotesque, but Clara still seemed enthralled by it.

"Well, it's just a little thing I do in my spare time."

"It's amazing..." Clara circled the doll, her hand trailing behind her. "What is he?"

"He's a nutcracker."

"You must show me how he works soon!"

Hans shyly remained silent, pushing the last block in place. Clara pulled her brother's arm over her shoulder, and she staggered as she tried to lift him.

“Let me help,” Hans said, looping Fritz's other arm around him. “He's nothing but metal right now.”

Clara seemed rather embarrassed. “I'm not sure why I tried that alone...”

Drosselmeier opened the front of the clock and held the pendulum to the side for them to climb in. When they were all pressed into the back, Drosselmeier released the pendulum and it started swinging to the rhythm again. Fritz garbled and reached out one hand to grab it, but Clara pulled him back just in time.

The glass door closed and they could hear Drosselmeier's muffled voice say, "It is twelve-twenty-eight. You'll be able to leave at twelve-thirty and you will be home by sunrise." He took a cloak from a hook on the wall and wrapped it around his body. Elisa kept his eye on the clock, and Hans felt a chill come over him.

Clara's cold hand twitched at Fritz's shoulder, nudging Hans's upper arm. He looked over, surprised by the wary look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm wondering what I'll find when I get there. I don't know what happened when I left to warn Uncle Drosselmeier. I had just enough time to hear the mice coming and to tell him to hide until the curse was set. But now..." Clara trailed off a moment, shaking. “I don't know how much time has passed, or how it's moved there. What if everyone's gone?”

Clara's shoulders slumped, defeated. Hans reached his free hand up to take Clara's.

"It's going to be fine," he promised. “Your family's all here, and we're safe now.”

"Bap!" Fritz shouted as he tapped Clara's nose. She smiled faintly, glancing to the other boy.

Drosselmeier cleared his throat. They all snapped to attention.

_"Time that was, time shall be, but waste it not, ere it waste thee...."_

Glittery wind flew about the room, and the workshop faded with the next swipe of the pendulum.

 


	6. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All seems well at the Stahlbaum Estate, where the magic of the spells remain.

The Estate was beautiful. It had stayed its normal size when everyone else had shrunken down.  People were talking, dancing and laughing, but it shrouded a cloud of concern. The only person being open about their worry was a slim young man, sitting along the

A few glimmering specks of magic from Drosselmeier flew and held the swinging pendulum in place. They walked to the glass pane in the front and Clara haltingly knocked on the wood, like it would shatter at any touch. Several heads turned.

"Clara, you're all right!" The young man called.

"Eric Kramer!" Clara said, obviously relieved.

"Where have you been?"

"Drosselmeier's. The Mousequeen found me, but he hid me in his shop. Oh!" Clara gasped. "This is Hans, Drosselmeier's nephew and apprentice."

"What brings you here?" One of the men asked. Hans noticed that he looked exactly like the dancer in teal on the music box.

"Well, um...Fritz, is...er..." Clara swallowed and her voice weakened. "Broken...."

Fritz blew a raspberry.

"Oh, well...I see," Mrs. Schaeffer said, meeting the boy’'s eye contact as he tilted her head. She almost had to bend in half in order to remain with the angle of his eyes.

"Uncle Drosselmeier told us to come here. As soon as we entered, he said Fritz would be cured."

"Then come in!"

"How?"

Everyone backed out of the way except Eric. "Walk through the glass."

Clara released Hans' hand, (He had forgotten they were still clinging to each other's fingers,) and put it out experimentally in front of her. Her hand shimmered through the glass and she pulled it back fearfully.

"What...what if it will cure only the first person through?"

"Then he'll go first," Hans said. He held Fritz out and passed him down to Eric.

The instant he passed through, a white light shone about her. Then it died down.

Fritz looked asleep, although his tattered uniform had been magically repaired. The scabbard at his side was now gone, and in its place was a gleaming, gold medal. Eric passed the young boy on to the dancer in teal, who carried him out of Clara and Hans’s sights.

Clara was holding back; Hans touched her arm gently.

"I'll get out first and help you down."

She nodded and Hans smiled to her.

He rested his hand on the wood and used it to keep him steady as he jumped. After he hit the floor, he turned and held out his arms for Clara.

Clara looked at him for a moment, then took his hands and leaped out.

They had both transformed. Hans was in a light blue uniform, looking somewhat like a soldier or prince, and was wearing a pair of boots for the first time. Clara's hair was held back in a bun, and she was wearing a teal dress with lavender and semi-transparent white accents. The sleeves went just past her wrists, hiding most of her ball joints. The only hints of the remaining curse were the painted features of her face.

Clara glanced down at their hands. When Hans had kissed her hand, the cracks had healed over and were only scars. Now they were gone.

She was about to point this out when she was pulled away by an old friend.

"Clara, you just never stop growing!" Mrs. Schaeffer said excitedly. "The last time I saw you at the party, you had gotten even taller!"

Clara smiled awkwardly at the sudden interruption and glanced back at Hans, who had been mauled by Eric. Eric was asking questions about Louise's safety.

"Actually, Mrs. Schaeffer, I seem to have shrunken into a toy. And toys do not grow."

"Of course not, dearie, how did you get that silly idea?" Mrs. Schaeffer pinched her cheek and Clara hoped she wouldn't break.

The absent-minded woman left and Clara was suddenly plagued with inquisitive guests. With a forlorn glance to Hans, she turned to talk with Ms. Eisenhower.

 

For the first time since the Stahlbaums had been awake, they felt relaxed. They went into the room where Pavlova usually was and ate and talked and laughed for the first time in about a century.

The Stahlbaum family heard a scream that sounded like a dying mouse. They paid it no mind.

 

Clara and Hans managed to find each other and went to check on Fritz. He had been placed at the base of the Christmas Tree, resting in a nest of ribbons within a discarded gift box.

"Has anyone tried to talk to you?" Clara questioned.

"No one," Fritz replied, groggily sitting up. His soldier’s cap was askew on his head, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been pretending to be asleep.”

Clara rolled her eyes and stood, brushing off her skirt. She glanced over to where Hans was walking, staring up into the towering branches of the tree.

She remembered lighting the Christmas tree that fateful day, after running several errands around town, delivering gifts with Fritz. She’d been amazed at the size and the beauty of the tree, but now she wondered if anything would ever surpass what she saw now.

“It’s different, being so small.” Clara admitting, and Hans jumped at the sound of her voice. “It almost feels like the house isn’t really here, though.”

Hans looked down and shuffled his feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m probably not making much sense.” Clara apologized, shaking her head.

“No, I understand what you mean. This is all new to me, too.”

He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. They might as well have been talking about the weather.

“This is your home, then?” Hans said, glancing around the expansive room. Judging by the size of the clock, the room would still be large in his normal size. He wondered, if he’d ever come back in his normal state, if he’d still feel small.

“Yes, but it’s so different from down here!” Clara giggled, spinning away with open arms.

“Dancing time!" Mr. Bauer said, grabbing his wife and moving out onto the floor.

Hans and Clara stared at each other for a moment, blushing slightly, until he finally offered his hand. Clara gladly took it and they went into position.

The dance was simple, since everyone else was doing it and there was a plethora of room to move. They were just in a simple waltz position and were moving their feet in a three-count beat.

"Isn't this the song that the music box plays?" Hans asked.

Clara thought. "Perhaps it is. It is one of my favorites, and Drosselmeier knew that. I was never able to dance to this song before."

"Why not?"

She remained silent before responding. "...I never had a partner. You're the first person I've ever danced this waltz with."

Hans had no idea to respond to that, so he changed the subject.

"Out of curiosity, what year did the curse come in place?"

"I seem to think that it was 1816."

"It's 1892 right now. And it happened Christmas Eve?"

"Yes, actually. Is that today?"

"It's Christmas Eve...well, Christmas morning, I guess."

"I've been a doll almost eighty years?" She shook her head, almost breaking into giggles.

"You don't look a day over fourteen." Clara truly laughed at Hans's comment.

"I'm actually almost thirteen. I suppose that it's hard to tell now that I'm like this."

Clara tucked a stray strand of rust-colored hair behind her ear and looked into Hans' eyes. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Does that mean you are in the final year of your apprenticeship?"

"Yes, I suppose..." Hans hesitated divulging his secrets, but gave up fighting. "I'll probably remain living with him, though."

Clara tilted her head. "Why would that be?"

Hans paused again, gathering his thoughts. "I—my parents died when I was young. I got lost in the snow. They were out there for a much shorter time than I was, so I hadn't any idea how...they fell ill and... I did not...."

Clara clasped Hans's hand tighter, almost as if never letting him go would keep him safe. "You must have been magical to enter this land. Did you sleep closer to the attic than your parents did?"

"Yes...?"

"Magic runs in your family!" Clara said, suddenly awestruck. "I mean, growing up with Drosselmeier as a godfather makes one feel as though there has to be magic. I knew he must have had it. Does it get passed down? Do you think there could be a cure?”

Hans had no answer, but he was saved from having to reply. Clara abruptly silenced and started swaying on her feet.

"Clara!" Hans called, alarmed. The other guests, who had gotten off of the dance floor to watch them dance, were now looking on in horror.

"The Mousequeen is gone..." She said. Her voice had changed drastically; it was almost blank, but there was an edge of resistance and fear.

"Is the curse breaking?" Hans wanted to believe what he had said, but knew in his gut that it was not the case.

She looked up, alarm in her eyes.

"No... someone else took her curses upon themselves. Orpheus is half dead, yes, but he's also half alive!"

"Orpheus hadn't been slain?"

"Yes, but...I don't know how, but he's coming back to life, taking all of the curses as his own...they are returning!"

"You mean—no!" Hans realized, shaking his head, wishing desperately it could stop.

Clara sagged against Hans and would have cried if she could. He pulled her into a hug, trying to shield her, but he knew that nothing could stop it.

"I'm going to lose my heart again!"

"Wonderfully put," Orpheus said, crawling out of the clock with his sword in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger and for the long wait. This story is older than my others, and I don't want to re-write it, so you'll have to forgive the clumsy writing style, as well.


	7. The Dawn

Hans pulled Clara closer to him and away from Orpheus.

Orpheus had a gaping hole in his chest, but some bubbling darkness kept the hole from letting any life out.

"I've just come to get what belongs to me."

Hans snapped, "Which is?"

"My puppet. Clara was always mine—from the instant my cursed touched her, she was under my control. And my mother thought it was herself who was controlling Clara."

"There is a weakness that goes with this power! There has to be!" Clara shouted.

"And what would that be?" Orpheus said.

Clara choked on her breath.

"That's what I thought. You do not know. Now watch."

Fritz, shouting, ran forward and pushed the couple to the floor, blocking Clara and Hans with his own small body. They still felt a sweep of wind run around the room, sending shivers up Fritz's spine. Then there was pounding.

Hans dared to glance up.

Every family friend, each dancer, musician, and passerby, had each frozen, with glassy eyes and stiff stances. One by one, they began falling to the floor.

Clara clutched at her pounding head and screamed in pain. Hans tore his gaze between the crowd, struggling between Clara and Orpheus. Fritz darted away, struggling to catch the adults, but they were all too heavy to hold.

Hans finally dived towards Erik, struggling to catch him. Clara staggered shakily back towards the clock.

She screamed as Orpheus took her by the shoulders; Hans turned rapidly.

"Clara!" His hand reached for his belt, but his sword was gone. It had disappeared once he stepped through the clock. He picked up the closest thing to him, a marble, and threw. It hit Orpheus firmly on the head and he staggered back. Clara broke away from his grasp and ran. Hans stretched out his hand to grab Clara when she got close and enough and made one single command.

"Run."

They separated, Hans leading Clara by the hand, and scattered, leaving Orpheus in the other room. Clara rubbed her temples.

"The spell...it's coming back too quickly! I can't fight it off!"

"It's okay, I'll protect you..." Hans said, glancing around as Fritz hid underneath the table.

"We have to go upstairs."

"Where?"

Clara had to stop and think. "It's been so long, but I'm sure it will come to me soon!"

"Let's go."

They pulled themselves up the stairs using the balustrade. It was slow, but quiet. They could hear Orpheus searching the other room and prayed for Fritz's safety.

 

In the other room, Orpheus pushed things aside with his blade as he looked for Clara. Some were just too large to do any damage, but sometimes china teacups fell to the ground and would shatter.

Fritz shook from a nearby table leg.

Orpheus turned towards the blue tablecloth.

Surely Clara and Hans could hide there. He walked slowly towards the table, clinging to his sword.

He was planning on lifting the tablecloth to peek in, but then he froze. That place was too expected, the two probably would not hide there. But still, if they hid there, thinking he would not look in such an obvious place....

He stabbed through the cloth and tore it. {Fritz clapped a hand over his mouth to hide his shriek.

The fabric folded just well enough that it hid him. Orpheus glanced around and left.

Fritz was torn between laughing in relief and crying with fear. He merely choked on his breath, trapped between the emotions.

Orpheus went to look for them in the other room.

 

Clara and Hans collapsed at the top step, too exhausted to continue walking.

"This house is too big for its own good."

"It's fine if you're actually a normal size," Clara said, attempting to stand but falling over almost immediately with a gasp.

"Need any help?"

"No, stay down!"

"What?" Hans whispered.

"Orpheus...he's at the bottom of the stairs...."

That shook Clara out of her weakened state and she crawled to a door.

"Come on!"

Hans stood tiredly and staggered behind her.

They slipped in through the barely-open door and Hans was struck with the charm of the room.

"Um?"

"My room. It's nothing really." Clara started pacing, agitated.

Hans watched her curiously. He had never seen anything like tonight, but the worst of it was, he had never seen a supposedly dead psychopath return from the grave to hunt down an innocent girl. And he had hoped he'd never have to see Clara so worried and frightened.

"It's not just Orpheus coming back for you, is it?"

She turned and looked into his eyes, as if she was about to fight him, but he just stared back softly.

"No...it doesn't matter. He's still alive. Anyone who gets in his way now will die; the curse is almost irreversible."

Hans stood up and reached out to take her hand, but she backed away.

"He's coming to take me. There is nothing we can do."

"Uncle Drosselmeier?" Hans said, hoping that there was someone.

“He isn't here. And he cannot break spells by himself, he requires help from others."

Hans glared down at his hands and Clara stopped pacing in front of the door. She sighed, then turned to Hans haltingly.

"Hans...I...There is only one way we can stop him," She said, then shuffled her feet, completely vulnerable.

"What is it?" He replied, going over to her quickly and taking her hands. She choked on her breath.

"It's...oh, but...it's too much to ask..."

"I'll do anything to help you!" Hans said fiercely, trying to pull the truth from her tortured eyes.

She struggled over her words, mouth opening and closing automatically. "Well, the Mousequeen had to be defeated, which has already happened, and..."

"Go on!" He urged.

Suddenly she silenced, lowering her head and shaking her head in shame.

“It’s just…this isn’t where I belong anymore. And you deserve to grow up, there are a million things you could do,” Clara turned away, spreading her arms to the vast ceiling above her. “There are so many people and so many places to explore. And I _do_ love you, but you can’t stay here forever.”

Hans dropped his arms, feeling his embarrassment and self-consciousness seeping red across his face.

Clara glanced back at his hurt expression and winced, eyes shimmering, as if a doll could cry. “Oh, please, don’t be sad. You’re wonderful, you really are! But you have a chance. Drosselmeier will miss you, he needs you.”

She stopped, covering her face with her hands, sniffling. “Oh, Hans, why can’t I just cry?”

Hans froze, staring at Clara, wanting to apologize for something, without really knowing if he’d done anything.

She’d said she loved him. So why did he feel so brokenhearted?

Crimson shot across his vision and he groaned, dropping to the ground as pain sparked across his shoulder.

Clara’s gaze shot up and she tensed, mouth agape.

Orpheus let his sword clatter to the ground as he kicked Hans away. The boy rolled over onto the blade of the sword.

Clara shrieked, pulled from her thoughts at Orpheus’s hand clamped around her waist. She struggled, striking him with her elbow, but Orpheus just pulled her closer to him. Hans struggled to push himself up, unsteady on his feet.

As the grip on her waist tightened, Clara’s spine cracked. She collapsed at the waist, lifting her head and arm enough so her fingers strained to reach the sword. Hans pushed himself away, the cut in his shoulder stinging, and shifted the weapon toward her.

Clara’s fingers immediately curled around the blade, fractures spreading across her hands. She pulled it closer, growing more desperate as her legs positioned themselves into a perfect pirouette, her back straightened, and she turned the blade towards herself.

Her arms arched overhead as the dull, peaceful look spread across her features.

Orpheus knelt, gasping in thick, drowned gasps as Clara teetered and began to fall backwards. Hans turned away, eyes closed.

The Mouse King’s scream curdled in his ears, so similar to when he’d last been slain, followed by the sound of porcelain striking against the ground.

Hans slowly opened his eyes, seeing nothing but a vast expanse of white. He jumped up, peering through the fog, stifled by his white cravat and tattered blue coat.

“Clara!” He cried, spinning around to search. “Clara, please, I love you! Where did you go?”

The fog was beginning to hurt Hans's eyes and he had to shut them before it got too painful.


	8. The Grand Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final scene. (This could honestly work as Hans's POV at the end of the original movie.)

Hans opened his eyes when he felt that the fog was gone.

It was—as was everything else. Hans was back in his small, dark room, his sheets rumpled and his books scattered across his desk. He blankly stumbled out of his bed and wondered how he had gotten back into his normal clothes.

He shook his head. He had been in the uniform.... Or, had it all just been a dream? Should he still be in his bedclothes? Either way, Hans was confused at the strange _whatever it was_ , how he had almost died at least twice, confessed his love for a porcelain doll, and somehow woken up in his bed, completely ready for the day.

He went blindly down the stairs to the main room. His uncle was cleaning up. Drosselmeier smiled when Hans entered the room.

"Merry Christmas, Hans!"

Hans mumbled something vaguely. Usually, Drosselmeier stared at Hans until Hans repeated his statement clearly, but he looked at the apprentice in concern.

"It was not a good night last night, was it?"

Hans noticed that Drosselmeier said nothing about sleep. He shook his head.

"Perhaps you should rest."

"No," Hans said firmly. "I have to work. I have to focus on something else."

"If that is what you want. There are clocks in the back that need to be moved out here."

Hans obeyed. But no matter how hard he worked, the pressing thoughts were at the back of his mind constantly; Clara's smile, how her eyes lit up when she was dancing with him, and, worst of all, her tears when she was telling Hans about the hopeless situation.

Hans was about to lift a larger clock off the bench, but he had to stop and lean over the clock. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and he clenched his teeth to control his raging emotions.

It wasn't just a dream. He would not be acting the way he was if it had been nothing more; Hans was so weak suddenly, and he didn't change overnight.

There was knocking at the door. Hans sat down on the bench and tried to regain himself before he had to socialize.

He heard the hushed voices; one belonged to Drosselmeier, and the other was a feminine, worried voice. They were quickly conversing in hurried, hushed tones. She would ask a question, and he would try to comfort her. But then she began crying.

Hans breathed in and picked up the clock, leaning backwards to counter-balance himself. He carried it carefully into the room and set it on the counter.

In the glass, Hans caught the reflection of his uncle's guest straightening when they saw him. Hans glanced over his shoulder and couldn't believe his eyes; turning completely, he met her eyes.

It was Clara—and the spell had been broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter ends a lot faster than the others. In the original fic, it had a ten-years-later epilogue, but I decided that could become a stand-along piece with more editing. Thanks for sticking with this story, and my apologies for its unfinished, sloppy-ish nature. This has helped me realize how much I've grown as a writer.


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